"But MASTER Keith said he did not wish to get up."
"Changed his mind, maybe." The terseness of Susan's reply and the expression on her face showed that the emphasis on the "Master" was not lost upon her.
"Very well, then, that will do. You may go. I will help him dress."
"I don't want any help," declared Keith.
"Why, Keithie, darling, of course you want help! You forget, dear, you can't see now, and—"
"Oh, no, I don't forget," cut in Keith bitterly. "You don't let me forget a minute—not a minute. I don't want to get up now, anyhow. What's the use of gettin' up? I can't DO anything!" And he fell back to his old position, with his face to the wall.
"There, there, dear, you are ill and overwrought," cried Mrs.
Colebrook, hastening to the bedside. "It is just as I said, you are
not fit to get up." Then, to Susan, sharply: "You may put Master
Keith's clothes back in the closet. He will not need them to-day."
"No, ma'am, I don't think he will need them—now." Susan's eyes flashed ominously. But she hung the clothes back in the closet, picked up the tray, and left the room.
Susan's eyes flashed ominously, indeed, all the rest of the morning, while she was about her work; and at noon, when she gave the call to dinner, there was a curious metallic incisiveness in her voice, which made the call more strident than usual.
It was when Mrs. Colebrook went into the kitchen after dinner for
Keith's tray that she said coldly to Susan: